Visitation
by Cookie Heist
Summary: On a dark night in Nibelheim, Hojo is visited by the ghost of a dead colleague.


**Visitation**  
by Cookie Heist

**Summary:** On a dark night in Nibelheim, Hojo is visited by the ghost of a dead colleague.  
**Genre:** Supernatural  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Brief description of a gunshot wound.  
**Disclaimer:** Final Fantasy VII belongs to Square Enix.

**Notes:** I actually wrote this back in December, and then it sat on my computer for a while. I guess that's pretty obvious from the allusion to A Christmas Carol in the first sentence.

* * *

Professor Gast was dead to begin with. A single bullet between the eyes had done him in, and, over a year later, Hojo felt no remorse. Gast's idealism had only gotten in the way of scientific progress. Eliminating him had been the logical course of action.

Hojo dimmed the lights in the basement so only the glow of the regenerative mako pods remained, casting green shadows on the stone floor. The clock on the wall told him it was after midnight, and his body cried out for sleep.

He hung his lab coat on its hook next to the door and proceeded up the stairs.

The hidden staircase that led from the second floor to the underground lab seemed longer with every trip Hojo made to Nibelheim. His mind, he knew, was as brilliant as that of any man half his age—likely more so—but his body was beginning to rebel.

Once upstairs he prepared himself a meal. Hojo took little pleasure in food. He merely ate enough of the nutrients necessary to keep his body functioning. His drink: filtered water from a pitcher in the refrigerator, no ice. His body was controlled as strictly as his experiments. Great lengths were taken to block out unknown variables.

He set his plate and glass in the dishwasher. He would run it later, when it was full enough to be worth the energy. It wasn't the electrical bill he was concerned about. Shin-Ra paid that. Hojo simply enjoyed efficiency and hated waste.

Once he was finished in the kitchen, he proceeded back upstairs to the master bedroom. The Shinra Manor was his home away from home when he wasn't in Midgar, and he liked to think he lived quite comfortably when he was here.

Hojo untied his necktie and hung it in the closet with the others. In the master bathroom, he unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. He also unbuttoned the sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows, then removed his glasses. He turned both the hot and cold faucets to their exact midpoints and splashed his face with water. Then he gently patted his face dry with a towel, which he folded and replaced neatly on the rack.

Slipping his glasses back on, he peered at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror and wondered if the creases in his forehead and around his mouth had gotten deeper since he left Midgar. He concluded that the lighting here was dimmer, casting shadows where they needn't be.

One such shadow behind him appeared to be moving, taking shape into something else. Hojo studied its transformation in the mirror. It had the features of a man, neatly dressed, with mousy hair and a nondescript face. There was nothing notable at all about the man's appearance save for the dark red hole between his eyes. The blood that trickled from it had not yet begun to dry.

Hojo knew immediately that the person who stood behind him could not be alive.

He watched in the mirror as the reflection of the man turned 180 degrees and moved soundlessly away. Hojo followed it into the darkened hallway. Instead of disappearing in shadow, the man shimmered, as if he were lit from within. His every feature was clearly visible in the darkness.

"I'm not afraid of the dark, Gast," Hojo sneered.

"I know how you think," the man responded. "I had to prove to you that I wasn't a trick of the light."

"Without light, there are no shadows to fool my eyes. Poetic. But let's cut to the chase. I killed you. Why are you here? Don't tell me you have some sentimental attachment to the world of the living."

"I have a warning," Gast replied.

"Oh, how very kind. You always tried so hard to look after my conscience. And look where it got you. I'm the one who's left alive."

"The Jenova Project was a sin against nature. The SOLDIER project put countless people at risk."

"People who signed informed consents. It's amazing how stupid humans can be when you dangle the promise of power in front of their noses."

"Actions have reactions. We're scientists, we know that law. And in death, you'll take responsibility for your actions and their repercussions. I've endured much suffering, and your sins are more deadly and more numerous than my own. But you do have one advantage over me. You are alive to repent."

Hojo laughed derisively. Gast ignored him, maintaining composure. "There's one thing you can do. I'm sure it would be easy enough for you—Just think of it as a different kind of experiment. The child that survived the Jenova Project must not be allowed to reach adulthood."

Hojo adopted an expression of disbelief. "I'm receiving a god-sent message to kill my own son? If I'm to prove my loyalty with an offering, I'd prefer to start smaller."

"No. You're overestimating your own importance. I'm using my own limited spiritual energy to make this point to you. Purgatory's version of my one phone call, if you will."

"So you choose to call your murderer. Why not that Ancient you stole from me?"

"Ifalna isn't about to send the world careening into chaos," Gast replied darkly.

"Chaos?" Hojo's curiosity was piqued. "I terminate my experiment, or… chaos?"

"I've seen what will happen, Hojo. Space and time exist differently for me now. That demon you call Sephiroth has the potential to destroy the world as we know it."

Hojo smiled. "Considering Jenova's power is his birthright, it's no surprise." He turned, leaving the ghost standing in the dark hallway. "We'll let you know how it ends."


End file.
